


acrylics and ink.

by badtzu



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Literature, NCT Dream - Freeform, Oneshot, mentions of mythology, painter!jaemin, renmin, writer!renjun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 02:56:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badtzu/pseuds/badtzu
Summary: meeting eachother changed their lives; this is the story about an artist and a writer who loved eachother deeply.i’m not creative with titles.





	acrylics and ink.

The torment, the pervasive pain, it just won’t go away and let the poor boy breathe.

 

His head pounded, sharp and heavy. He had his head in his hands and began to rub his temples, trying to massage the excruciating headache away. He sighed. The pain in his head flashed hard and hot as he he wrote all of himself, letting out all his wrathful impetuses against the keys of his old laptop. He deleted things and wrote them again and deleted them again, ad nauseam; but he didn’t like anything of what had came out of it, oh God, he hated it all. He thought the writing wasn’t interesting nor fascinating in any way. Fucking writer’s block. 

 

He felt betrayed by his own mind, by his creative genius. Writing was his Cain, so close and familiar to him yet it was killing him, Abel.

 

Effete, he threw his aching body on his bed with the light blue sheets. His arms were covering his puffy face, from staying up so many hours with that damn laptop, in hope to come up with something. Tears started to form at the corners of his eyes, and he felt lost.

 

In moments like these, he just wanted Hades to take his body down there into hell, and throw him in the Tartar, or let Cerberus devour him and make all of his sufferings disappear in the wind.

 

That’s how Renjun spent the days of his mere existence, before he met him, the light of his life, the one he would follow on top of the world, his Eurydice.

 

The roads on which they would meet were not marked on maps, they were as delible as the foam of the ships in the sea, which, however, as vast as the ocean was, always ended up taking the same routes.

 

Renjun and Jaemin met at a bus stop. It was a sunny day, the jasmines were growing in the flowerbed in front of the stop. Jaemin was waiting for his bus while drawing said jasmines on his sketchbook, with elegant movements of his hand.The shorter was running, out of breath, his hands full of papers, but he arrived too late and lost his bus. He sighed, desperate. Jaemin noticed him and saw his red, lucid eyes; he really wanted to approach him and comfort him, but he wasn’t bold enough. So he decided to draw him, putting in all his passion, in order to not forget him. Jaemin attached the drawing on his wall, and never forgot about the gorgeous and fragile boy he saw at the bus stop.

 

A few weeks later, Jaemin saw Renjun at the same bus stop again. He had lost his bus. A déjà vu. But this time Renjun, defeated, sat next to him, and the other noticed the dark circles under his eyes. "I can’t anymore." He whispered to himself. And suddenly Jaemin felt bold enough, like a rush of adrenaline had just traveled his body, and without noticing it, his lips had parted and he spoke to the other. "Hey, wanna talk about it? You seem stressed." He immediately regretted it when the other glared at him, but it was a false alarm since his gaze softened soon after. "It’s just... I stay up until four fucking am to try to write something, but I swear, nothing comes out." He began to rant, and Jaemin listened to him attentively.

 

A friendship soon bloomed, and the two became inseparable.

 

They’ve been friends for four months, and decided to attend the same art school, since both wanted to pursue different types of art.

 

The chinese felt ecstatic with him, he could leave all the sophisticated words he needed for writing and let out his most frivolous side, feeling free.

 

Renjun caught feelings for him. He realized it when he saw him painting on his canvas, he fell for his delicate hands, he followed with his eyes the strokes of the brush on the once blank surface, he looked at him as he gently mixed up the acrylics, creating, coloring, experimenting. Renjun watched as Jaemin was giving birth to art, even though he already was art.

 

Renjun was in love with an artist, and wanted him closer to him, to give colors to his life, to paint their shared skies, to bring their hearts together with the stroke of a brush.

 

He loved him immensely, but unlike Orpheus with Eurydice he wasn’t letting impatience devour him and lose him forever. He was waiting, because he was adamant that the other didn’t like him that way, and didn’t want to ruin their friendship.

 

Oh, will Eros ever shoot an arrow in his direction? This desire branched off in Renjun’s whole body.

 

Jaemin played a pivotal role in his life, becoming the subject of his dreams and his writing. Those faux freckles that Jaemin drew so carefully on his own face in the football team’s changing room when they weren’t practicing, just to have a brief moment alone cradled in Eirene’s arms and no one there to disturb him, so he could draw them perfectly, just like he wanted them to be. And his obsession with absolute perfection was something that Renjun had noticed. He saw how his eyes start to look around everywhere, how he starts sweating, the droplets dripping down his neck when he wasn’t meeting his idea of perfection. And Renjun just wanted to run there, embrace him in his arms and reassure him, telling him that he didn’t need to strain himself that much to get to that unreachable utopia of flawlessness, that he was perfect just the way he was, and he loved everything about him.

 

The epithet of his life, the element that characterized his whole being, the source of his immeasurable happiness, and his muse, composed by traits of ethereal beauty, a charming smile and a bit of unpredictable craziness that added a pinch of salt to the other’s previously boring existence, that’s what Na Jaemin was.

 

Because yes, Na Jaemin was indeed _crazy._  And Renjun could give endless examples to prove his thesis, like the time when he got back to their shared apartment only to find all of the walls to be completely covered in colors, a work of art made by no other than his best friend. Renjun was amazed by the beauty of the other’s art, but couldn’t help but giggle at his silliness.

 

Since that day, the apartment was gorgeous and felt more like home, it described the strange pairing that inhabited it perfectly.

 

But what Renjun didn’t know, is that Jaemin felt the same towards him.

 

He was completely enamoured, enchanted. He was lost in Renjun, and maybe he dreamed of kissing him under that branch of the lake of Como, the place he daydreamed about that was described at the beginning of the book he read with Renjun once, when they were lying together on his bed, cuddling softly, the older’s hands brushing shyly in Jaemin’s hair, and a peach tint of blush on their cheeks.

 

Renjun didn’t know that he was the recurring theme of the artist’s drawings, the ones he hid in his drawers, the ones that only his heart knew about. And Jaemin found him beauteous, the way he smiled at him so sincerely, his soft voice, the way he puckered his cherry red lips when he was writing, when he suddenly felt inspired and started scribbling words on the first piece of paper he could find, like tissues, his Starbucks cups when they went out to get coffee together, or alternatively, his hand.

 

Renjun’s existence was paramount to Jaemin, he was his Aphrodite, the epitome of beauty, the description of love, the person he couldn’t help but be attracted to, like a magnet.

 

The younger wondered what he was writing about in those rainy afternoons, but whenever he asked the answer always was:”You will know it when I finish the book.” followed by one of his big smiles that made Jaemin go crazy.

 

And it were always his insecurities, his fear of imperfection, that made him think he wasn’t enough for someone as, in his vision, _perfect_ as Renjun. His soul was hurting, because he wanted him so bad, he wanted to paint him everyday, clasp their hands together, feel his heart on his, share tender kisses.

 

Jaemin was in love with a writer, and wanted to read with him all the time, to write their future together, to mark his heart with their love with permanent ink, to share caresses as delicate as the poetry they read together.

 

One day, Jaemin was in the other’s room, smiling excitedly, and hiding his hands behind his back. "Hey, Injunnie." He called, but the other was absent, completely immersed in his writing. "Injunnie." He called again, this time gaining the attention of the other. "I just remembered about this. When I saw you for the first time on that bus stop, I drew you, because I didn’t want to forget about you." He explained, showing the drawing and giving it to the older. Renjun perused it carefully, his eyes shining, his cheeks tinted of red. He found it extremely beautiful, and he felt falling for Jaemin even more.

 

_Entre deux coeurs qui s’aiment, nul besoin de paroles._

 

Renjun’s eyes were so different in that moment, more soft than Jaemin knew eyes could be, the insecure boy was gone and instead there were the eyes of one who loves deeply. If it were anyone else he would have dropped his gaze, but with Renjun, Jaemin drawn in closer, reaching what he always wanted, the contact, the closeness, the lips.

 

And that was it, their serendipity, two people meeting each other against all odds and finding out that they were almost destined to meet, and were now sharing love, kissing almost desperately.

 

A few weeks later, Renjun finished his book. Joy was filling him to the brim, his hard work finally had a conclusion. When he hit the key of his laptop’s keyboard for the last time, he smiled, running his hands through his hair, admiring his work. He immediately ran to Jaemin, who was painting in his room.

 

He arrived to him, and shouted excitedly. "Jaemin! Jaemin! I finished my book!" The other turned around to look at him, and Renjun saw a stain of blue paint on the younger’s cute nose. Jaemin instantly smiled and he felt contented, seeing Renjun so happy, waving his hands around and giggling.

 

Two days later, they were sitting together on the grass, hand in hand, watched by Artemis. That night, they were looking for falling stars together. Maybe it was childish, an impossible dream to see one of those stars, but both had dumb smiles painted on their faces, and butterflies in their stomachs.

 

"Are you going to kiss me under this moon?" Jaemin asked suddenly, making the other’s heart skip a beat. "With their hands clasped together, the brunette leaned closer and made that night magical, unforgettable, by leaving a delicate kiss on the other’s lips." Jaemin was reciting the words from his book, the words Renjun wrote thinking about him, the words he threw so many sentiments in. The chinese boy just laughed at him.

 

 

" _J_ _ust kiss me, idiot._ "

**Author's Note:**

> Entre deux coeurs qui s’aiment, nul besoin de paroles. – Between two hearts who love eachother, there’s no need for words.
> 
> hope you liked it!! <3 
> 
> twt: lunahyuck


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